University of Virginia Library

He whose proud intellect forbids to rove
In nature's wild recesses, nor can taste,
From the deep waters of forgotten times,
Of feeling or of joy, with grateful thirst,
Scorning the deeply cavern'd rock, the stream
That glideth with a prattling whispering
O'er pebbly beds, or dasheth listless down,
From the far precipice, I would not seek
Much converse with. He may own a heart
Of subtler intricacy, more remote,
From nature's open book of fruits and flow'rs,
Which all may be acquainted with, but to me
There is a chilliness in lofty thoughts,
That like the mountain's brow, forever wears
A wreath of frostwork, that forbids approach.
I would mark its base, where falls the stream
And buds make merry with the gliding drops,
That steal into their open bells, at morn,
To hide, from the fierce thirstings of the sun at noon.
There is a melody in waterfalls,
A sweetness of repose in solitude,
In the far windings of untrodden wilds—
Where nature is the same, as at her birth,
I love to riot in. My heart forgets
The chains of social life, and I become
A member of the scene, I but survey!
'Tis a fond mystery to hold converse,
With the sweet warbler, who at noontide heat,
Whispers soft carols to the blushing rose,
That opens by the wayside, yet untouch'd
By wanton or uncaring hands, alone.
Nor is it solitude as man may deem—
But a wide glance at all existing nature,
Who sits within a tangled bower, and speaks
To the reposing earth, who straight casts down
His mantle redolent with flowers and fruits
Of mingled sweetness, and of varying hue.

'Twas a deep Indian forest, where I laid
My form, reposing from the noonday sun
Listless. A lowly green grass-plat, my couch,
And a small tuft of flowers, my pillow form'd
Which, cautiously I press'd upon, as not
To crush them, so delicate and soft they grew.
A torrent tumbling from a neighboring hill,
Incessant murmur'd, as it reach'd the base,
Where straight diverging into several streams,
It found a passage thro' a rising rock,
Furrow'd by time in his irregular course.
The tangled flow'rs and vines, a zephyr fill'd,
Discoursing, as the wind-harp, touch'd at night,
By the soft language of the enamour'd sea;
Holding such pleasant music, that it came,
Like fairy spells upon me, and I slept.
Straightway, transported to a by-gone age,
I seem'd to be—tho' still the scene, the same.
But in the distance could I hear the roar
Of the wide waste of waters, and at length,
My vision more expansive grew, and soon
The far Atlantic, crested o'er with foam,
And shining, like the sky with many stars,
Torn from the sun, which the disporting waves,
Leaping continual from their boundless bed,
Divided into brilliants, filled my view.
A speck was seen, tho' scarce perception-noted,
Upon the verge of the pale grey horizon,
Like a hand upon the wall at midnight.
It grew in swift proportion as it rose,
Upon the bounding billow, cleaving on
Its cresting foam, and rising at each leap,
With newer energy, and tenser nerve,
Till o'er the waters, with resistless force,
It bore wide way, as up its yellow sides,
The struggling billows leap'd. The ship drew near,
And now upon her deck, might many a face
Awe-fill'd, and wond'ring at the new found land
Be seen—They look'd around on all;
The sky that wore a different aspect,
A clearer blue, and the wide forest,
That unbounded seem'd, in the blue world
Of distance. The trees of giant height,
Mantled in foliage, and the sparkling sand,
Of Ophir seeming, and the mountains vast,
That the extended eye grew pain'd to search
Their summits capp'd with clouds.
The Chief he came,
Pensive, but calm, as fill'd with grateful pride,
And prostrate on the earth, to him who gave
That earth, before a waste, untrod, unknown,
He bent his soul in pray'r, whilst all around
Spoke audible the same; accepted then
The voice of nature, thro' her thousand echoes,
Straightway repeated it again, again,
Whilst tears of sweet communion fill'd each eye.